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LINKS FROM BROKEN CHAINS 



LINKS 
FROM BROKEN CHAINS 



BY 

DONIZETTI MULLER 




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CAMBRIDGE 
Prints at t&e EtoerstUe Press 

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Copyright, 1891 and 1892, 
By DONIZETTI MULLER. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co. 



THIS VOLUME 

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

TO MY SONS 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Origin of Will o' the Wisp i 

Marry for Love ! 13 

My Ship 14 

To a Faithless One 15 

Wedded to Gold 16 

Then Melted Thy Cold Heart 17 

Dreams 18 

Oh, my Adored ! 18 

Fate 20 

Divorced 21 

The Discarded Wife 24 

Retrospect 25 

The Language of Flowers 27 

I Wonder Why? 28 

The Salt-Cellar 28 

Maud and Paul 33 

Beware ! 38 

Lament of a Runaway Dog 40 

Storm Tossed 41 

To an American Soldier 42 

To John Greenleaf Whittier 43 

The Tomb of Mrs. Hemans 45 

To the Memory of John Howard Payne .... 46 

The Old Man's Soliloquy 49 

Soliloquy of the Houseless 50 

The Yellow Boys . 51 

Smiling Misery 54 



x Contents 

Come Home! 57 

Little Bundle of Rags 58 

Little Sunbeam 60 

Never Strike a Child ! 61 

To a Caged Lion 61 

To the Obelisk 62 

To the Sunset Gun 65 

Vesper Bells 67 

The Alien 68 

The Jeannette's Dead 69 

The Reservoir 72 

Obscurity 75 

Our Destinies Diverge 76 

Destiny 80 

The Wheelman 82 

The Masquerade Ball 82 

Wine 84 

Champagne Song 86 

The Drunkard 87 

The Brook's Melodies 89 

To the Charles River 90 

Lake of the Woods 94 

Idyl of Lake George 95 

The Spray and Bow Rivers 96 

The Seasons 98 

June 99 

Autumn 100 

Storm Pictures 102 

Visions of the Woods 104 

A Song to California 106 

Alaska 108 

Morning in the Country no 




LINKS FROM BROKEN CHAINS. 

THE ORIGIN OF WILL O' THE WISP. 



HE god of love, long years ago 

When Time himself was young, 
Set out with quiver, darts and bow 
Across his shoulders slung. 



'T was morn ; Aurora's blandest smile 
Beamed on him from above ; 

Away he flew, mile after mile, 
Uniting hearts in love. 

Birds warbled softest melodies ; 

Sweet flowers decked the ground, 
Exhaling odors on the breeze 

To soothe love's burning wound. 

For love pervaded all the air 
As gleamed this hunter's flame ; 

His aim was true ; his silken snare 
O'erflowed with joyous game. 



2 The Origin of Will o' the Wisp 

How oft success in young or old 

Engenders blind conceit ! 
And gods, like mortals, when too bold 

Must sometimes know defeat. 

Before the archer's eyes of blue 
An angel seemed to glide : — 

He twanged his bow, an arrow flew, 
It glanced and turned aside. 

Amazement chained the hunter-boy ; 

For ne'er in earthly guise 
Had vision sweet, — so bright, so coy, — 

Dazed this young rover's eyes 1 

Her orbs the midnight stars eclipse ; 

Her teeth outrival snow ; 
Her mocking, coral, dewy lips 

Are arched like Cupid's bow. 

The locks through which her shoulders 
gleam 

Wave there like golden floss ; 
Her voice is soft as sylvan stream 

Impelled o'er tufts of moss. 

With charming grace and visage blest, 
Lithe form unmatched by art, — 



The Origin of Will o' the Wisp 3 

Alas ! that such a lovely breast 
Contains an icy heart ! 

The lamp which gives the purest light 

Decoys the moth to death ; 
That dainty flower * of purest white 

Allures with poison breath. 

She pertly says : " Thy power I scout, 
Thou prankish imp of mirth ; 

I challenge thee ! for much I doubt 
Thy boasted heavenly birth. 

" Sweet little fool ! Go chant love's strain 

To softer hearts than mine ! 
I '11 wear no chain of love-sick swain, 

Nor in his arms recline. 

" For me, thou ne'er shalt choose a mate ; 

I scorn love's soft appeal ! 
Thy shaft can never penetrate 

My armor strong as steel. 

" For others keep thy silly darts 
Who sigh to fall thy prey ! 

Learn, tiny god, men's loving hearts 
Are toys with which I play ! " 
1 The Andromeda Mariana, — stagger bush. 



4 The Origin of Will o' the Wisp 

Abashed, the baffled, pouting child 

Departs in scornful woe, 
And seeks repose within the wild, 

Where limpid streamlets flow. 

He finds a rill 'neath lindens tall, — 
Fit place for gods to rest ; 

Refulgent beams across it fall 
From out the gorgeous west. 

He throws his bow and darts aside ; 

His wings he deftly trims ; 
Then plunges in the purling tide 

To cool his dimpled limbs. 

Unknown to him, the saucy lass 

Discovers his retreat, — 
Purloins his weapons off the grass, 

And flees with nimble feet. 

Ah, fugitive ! as you in grace 
Trip blithely o'er the strand, 

You little reck your feet but trace 
Your doom upon the sand. 

A butterfly, with splendid wings, 
Flies swiftly down the glade, — 



The Origin of Will o' the Wisp 5 

Ideal of all lovely things 
Imploring Cupid's aid. 



" Yes, little one, I grant thy plea, 

Thou shalt not vainly sue ; 
The nectar-cup that blooms for thee 

Distills enough for two." 

How gleefully he cleaves the tide ! 

His pretty cheeks aglow, 
Then flings the pearly drops aside, 

And springs to grasp his bow. 

He looks around in wild despair — 
Lo ! bow and darts have fled ! 

His voice in anger rends the air 
As if to rouse the dead. 

His outcries waken deep defiles ; 

His clan springs through the green ; 
Meanwhile, the witching damsel smiles 

Behind her leafy screen. 

Thus, many laugh when they should weep, 
They love where they should hate, 

And rest in dreams of blissful sleep 
Beneath the sword of fate. 



6 The Origin of IVill o' the Wisp 

" Ho ! comrades all ! heed my commands ! 

Find where our thief has fled ! 
My arrows hurled by other hands 

Will consternation spread ! 

" The queenly rose, how would it grow 

If anchored in the lake ? 
Forget-me-nots, how would they blow 

Engrafted on the brake ? 

" Away ! and hunt with main and might ! 

List ye to every sound ! 
And search for steps however light 

Upon the yielding ground ! " 

They scan each leaf and mottled tint 
Where shine and shadows meet, 

And quickly see each tiny dint 
Where flew this coquette's feet. 

They follow where those imprints wind 

Along the curving shore ; 
The fleeing pilferer they find, — 

The hot pursuit is o'er. 

In scathing tones, the god : " Strange 
foe! 
Think'st thou with me to jest ? 




ih£!"(£ Ql/^ THI8F H>\^ FTbET)! 



The Origin of Will o the Wisp y 

Ne'er more for thee shall passion glow 
In any manly breast ! 

" For thy fell crime, inhuman sprite, 

Hear thou my stern decree : 
Go roam the earth a fickle light 

Through all eternity ! 

" When stilly night, lone, dread, profound, 

Unfurls her sable pall, 
Through grave-yards flit, from mound to 
mound, 

Condemned and shunned by all ! 

" O'er lonely marshes doomed to glide 

Till night is merged in day, 
Thy lovely face then shalt thou hide 

In tombs with mortal clay ! 

" O'er dreary moorlands thou shalt dart, 

Past wildernesses skirt ; 
Go seek, go find, a loyal heart ! 

Away ! thou wretched flirt ! " 

" Relent ! relent ! " she pleads in woe, 
" Behold mine eyes with tears o'erflow ! 
Have mercy ! I implore ! 



8 The Origin of Will o' the Wisp 

Release me from this endless fate ! 
Give me some task, however great, 
I '11 serve thee evermore. 



"While sporting with thine arms, by 

chance 
I pierced me with thy cruel lance, — 

Ah, heal this mad'ning sting ! " 
" No ! thou shalt bear through endless 

time 
This pain ! The curse of thy deep crime 
To thee must ever cling ! 

" The greatest crime of all on earth 
Is scorning love in heartless mirth ; 

For this thou art convicted. 
I will not grant thy wild appeal ; 
I will not cause a wound to heal 

That has been self-inflicted." 

" If I can never know the charms 
Of being clasped in loving arms, 

And pillowed on Love's breast ; 
If in love-smiles I may not bask, 
Then let me die ! 't is all I ask, — 

To die and be at rest." 



:: ^ ' 








& THY PELl: : 



The Origin of Will o' the Wisp 9 

"Know, pleading maid, thy charming 

face 
Effects no change in thy disgrace ; 

Thy beauty I defy ! 
For when mine arms were filched by thee 
That theft meant immortality, 

And thou shalt never die ! " 

<; Let me not ever wander o'er 

Dark, dreary grave-yards, marsh, and moor, 

Unloved, alone each night, 
Nor through each sweet delightful day, 
When all the world with joy is gay, 

Be shut from human sight. 

11 Relent ! and I will chant thy praise, 
Through moon-lit nights and sunny days, 

With every thankful breath ! 
Unhappy fate ! alas, to be 
A light from which all lovers flee ! 

*T is worse than living death. 

" For love my tortured bosom yearns, — 
For love my breast with passion burns 

Which I cannot control ! 
Immortal pangs of wild desire 
Consume my heart with quenchless fire ! 

Relieve my longing soul ! 



io The Origin of Will o the Wisp 

" For thee I '11 find the fairest bowers, 
To thee will bring the sweetest flowers, 

And sing thee to repose ; 
I '11 be thy slave for aye, through all ; 
Forgive ! forgive me and recall 

Thy curse of endless woes! 

" Oh, I '11 disperse the clouds, the storm, 
Bring gems to deck thy lovely form 

From heaven's galaxy ; 
For thee, deep caves will I explore, 
Through azure depths for thee will soar, 

If thou wilt set me free ! " 

" Enough ! " the archer-boy replies, 
With anger in his voice and eyes, 

" Behold how gods can jest ! 
I take thy vow, glib boaster fair ; 
Do these slight tasks, I '11 grant thy prayer ; 

Lo, this is my behest : — 

" Paint a song upon the rainbow ; 

Mend a broken bubble ; 
Make the desert overflow ; 

Quell the ocean's trouble. 

" Count the countless stars in motion ; 
Hush the wind's deep sighing ; 



The Origin of Will o' the Wisp u 

Count the countless pearls of ocean ; 
Stop the clouds from flying. 

" Chain the lightning ere it flashes ; 

Still the pealing thunder ; 
Stop the avalanche that dashes 

Mounts of ice asunder. 

" Cage a cyclone ; make an earthquake ; 

Shorten years to hours ; 
Out of fire forge a snowflake ; 

Wreathe the moon with flowers. 

" Seize the glory of the morning, 

With it bind thy tresses; 
Dim the sky the sun 's adorning 

With his last caresses. 

" Hapless outcast ! jilt of earth ! 
Doubting my celestial birth ! 
When these mandates are obeyed 
I '11 forgive thee, pleading maid." 

Will o' the Wisp ! of thee we sing, 

On earth, in heaven above, 
Thou art, of all, the only thing 

That findeth naught to love. 



12 The Origin of Will o' the Wisp 

The oceans, founts, and streams would dry 
If Love's sweet spell were o'er ; 

The sun, the stars, the earth would die, 
And chaos reign once more. 

The heavens paint upon the seas 

Their ev'ry changing hue, 
And sweeter sighs the fragrant breeze 

When falls the evening dew. 

Huge mounts peal forth a deep refrain 

To clouds contending low \ 
Glad offspring of the sun and rain ! 

Love causes thee to glow. 

Love binds us all with rosy bands, 
Love conquers hearts perverse ! 

Love guides us with his dimpled hands, 
Love rules the Universe ! 



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Marry for Love! 13 



MARRY FOR LOVE! 



ED not for pomp nor gain, 
But love, true love, that gift 
from realms above ! 
No power on earth can rend the chain 
Whose links are clasped with love. 

Deceit will hide the smart, 
Stifle the sigh, keep burning tears sup- 
pressed, 
And smiling, pillowed on thy trusting 
heart, 
Dream 't is another's breast. 

Beauty is prone to stray, 
It pines when caged, and petulance as- 
sumes ; 
Cherish thy bird, or it may soar away 

Where vice will soil its plumes. 

False pride conceals the shoal 
That lurks to wreck with gold's alluring 

snare ; 
The jeweled bonds which fetter brain and 
soul 
'T will gall the slave to wear. 



14 My Ship 

When Youth and Age unite, 
December frost congeals the heart of 

May ; 
A sunbeam frozen on the breast of Night 

Will prove a fickle ray ! 

Wed not for pomp nor gain, 
But love, true love, that gift from realms 

above ! 
No power on earth can rend the chain 

Whose links are clasped with love. 

'4 

MY SHIP. 




HAVE the trimmest jaunty craft 
That cleaves the curling foam, 

Sweet Fancy's airy pinions waft 
It, where I wish to roam. 



Her dainty sails are moonlight soft, 
Her flag, dawn's rosy beams, 

And for a pennant up aloft, 
A rainbow gayly streams. 

My friends all bear me company, 
Love nestles in each berth ; 



To a Faithless One 15 

Bright visions freight my argosy, 
We ballast her with mirth. 



Our wealth is more than Croesus' hoard, 
From out their treasure-keep 

Tritons and mermaids toss on board 
Rich jewels of the deep. 

Her silken ropes by zephyrs fanned 

Enchant us to repose ; 
We ever float, a joyous band, 

Where youth immortal glows ! 



1 



TO A FAITHLESS ONE. 

" Mirth is madness, and but smiles to slay ; 
And Hope is nothing but a false delay ! " 

Byron. 




SAW thee at the ball last night, 
Gems decked thy snowy breast, 

Whose lustre gives old age the 
right 
His head thereon to rest. 



One moment, as we stood alone, 
I heard thy stifled sigh, 



1 6 Wedded to Gold 

Regretful tears of anguish shone 
In thine averted eye. 

Regrets are vain ; thou shouldst rejoice 
Since thou art Fortune's bride, 

But sadness undertones thy voice 
Dissembling cannot hide. 

Thy faithless heart will oft repine 

At Pride's deceitful vow ; 
Thy bitter tears will oft outshine 

The jewels on thy brow. 



WEDDED TO GOLD. 

OVE is a passion from above 
Which knows nor guile nor mal- 
ice; 

The lowly cot illumed by love 
Outvies the regal palace. 

Ah ! gold is but a worthless prize 
With which thy heart to garnish ; 

The gems that dazzle now thine eyes 
Thy tears will quickly tarnish ! 




Then melted Tloy Cold Heart iy 

Dissembling, thou mayst thrill the breast 

Upon thine own reclining, 
But naught can quell thy wild unrest 

Nor keep thee from repining ! 



THEN MELTED THY COLD HEART. 

S fierce volcanic fire leaps from the 

quivering mount, 
My love gushed forth to thee in 
one o'erwhelming fount. 
Then melted thy cold heart 'neath love's 

impassioned gleams, 
As snow dissolves beneath the sun's bright, 

warming beams. 
But burning lava-tide thrown o'er a frozen 

sea 
Makes icebergs float away ; thus thou 
did'st drift from me. 




% 



1 8 Oh, My Adored. 



DREAMS. 




CLASPED thee in my dreams ; 
so deep was thy repose 
Methought thee dead ! I rained 
hot tears on thy dear face, 
And strained thee to my heart in one 
long, wild embrace ; 
I kissed thy glowing lips, and made thine 
eyes unclose. 

Oh, had my dreams been true, e'en had 
thy spirit fled, 
I would have thrilled thy clay with all the 

love of years, 
Besought thee in such woe, baptized thee 
with such tears, 
That my endearing terms had roused thee 
from the dead. 



* 



OH, MY ADORED! 

H, my adored ! I have no thoughts 
which are not thine ; 
Thy darling name I hear low- 
breathed in pearly shells, 




Oh, My Adored! ig 

And when bright dewdrops roll into 
sweet flower-cells, 
In all earth's loveliness, thy soul communes 
with mine. 

Oh, could I die for thee ! Away, false 
dream, depart ! 
Why do I tremble so ? Do I adore thee 

still ? 
No, no, O love ! I bind thee with an 
iron will, 
And though it wring my soul, I tear thee 
from my heart ! 

Now thou mayst sigh to reillume love's 
torch in vain ! 
This heart, once thine, now holds but 

ashes of despair, 
More cold than if no fire had ever spar- 
kled there ; 
Thou hast no power, false one, to kindle 
it again. 



20 Fate 



FATE. 



HE angel of my dreams thou art, 

love divinely fair ! 
I wake to press thee to my heart, 
And clasp but empty air. 



A jewel gleamed upon the strand ; 

I stooped to grasp the ray, 
A curling wave swept 'neath my hand, 

And snatched the prize away. 

Whene'er I list a wild bird's strain, 

The lovely songster flees ; 
The roses that I strive to gain 

Are scattered by the breeze. 

Like poor wrecked mortal on the deep 

I see a beacon light, 
When storm-clouds o'er the heavens sweep 

And hide the blessed sight. 



Divorced 21 



DIVORCED. 



HE dim, unsteady light 
Throws phantom shadows round 
a tiny bed, 
Where lies a hapless child. An early 
blight 
Dyes his wan cheeks; pain racks his infant 
head. 

His father, bowed with grief, 
The image of despair, walks to and fro ; 
Remorse can ne'er bring tortured breast 
relief, 
Nor vain regrets release the heart from 
woe. 

He hears his sick boy moan 
(While from his pleading eyes the hot 
tears pour) : 
" Oh ! why have Ma and Sister from us 
gone ? 
Where are they now ? and will they come 
no more ? 

" How nice it used to be ! 
You romped with us, and fairy tales re- 
hearsed ; 



22 Divorced 

Or if away, then Sister played with me; 
When you returned, each flew to greet you 
first. 

" Ma always stroked my hair 
And kissed me when I fell, or if I wept ; 
At night she heard me say my little 
prayer, 
Then told me of bright angels, till I slept. 

" Oh, send for Mamma now, 
And Sister too, I want them home again ; 
If they could lay their cool hands on my 
brow 
And kiss my eyes, I know 't would ease 
the pain." 

Three hundred leagues away : — 
" Wherefore these tears, what ails my little 
pet? 
You have new toys." " Oh, Ma ! I can- 
not play, 
My heart is sad, and — your eyes, too, are 
wet. 

" Again last night I dreamed 
Of Brother dear ; his brow was bathed 

with dew, 



Divorced 23 

His lips were parched, his eyes with 
fever gleamed, 
He looked so ill, and he was calling you. 

" I saw his thin hand grope 
For yours, as if he thought you must be 
near, 
And Papa moaned as though bereft of 
hope ; 
Let us go home ; Brother will die, I fear." 

" Dreams come not true, sweet one, 
Else had my life been one bright round 
of bliss ; 
Dear little Will ! my darling, darling 
son — 
Perhaps — he has forgotten us ere this." 

" Brother forget us ? no ! 
He pines for us, and wonders where we 
are; 
This very day, dear Ma, shall we not go ? 
Oh, do say yes ! I long to kiss Papa ! " 

" Hush ! hush ! you have appealed 
With all the love and strength at your 
command ; 



24 The Discarded Wife 

Our hearts may break ! I am too proud 
to yield ; 
Forgive me, child ! — you cannot under- 
stand." 

Parents, in Heaven's sweet name, 
Why rend young hearts whose lives sprang 
from one source ? 
Why make God's law a byword, farce, 
and shame ? 
Think of your little ones, and shun di- 
vorce ! 



THE DISCARDED WIFE. 

LAS ! that homes, in sordid marts, 
By pride are wrecked forever ; 
Alas ! that gold can sunder 
hearts 
Which God has bound together. 

I little recked it tolled my knell, 
And heeded not its warning, 

When sweetly pealed the marriage bell 
Upon our bridal morning. 




Retrospect 25 

I never thought of cruel wrong, 

Nor how deceit can palter ; 
I did not see the ghostly throng, 

That hovered o'er the altar — 

As proudly kneeling by his side, 
While holy words were spoken. 

A thousand deaths my soul has died 
Since he those vows has broken. 

The love then pledged to me for life 

Is lavished on another ; 
My husband calls her now his wife ! 

My children call her mother ! 



i 



RETROSPECT. 

HE veil which screens long weary 
years 
In dreams I throw aside, 
When lo ! a lovely girl appears 
In all her virgin pride. 

As then, her soulful, timid eyes 
Are gazing into mine ; 




26 Retrospect 

The while I list her counsel wise, 
Mine arms around her twine. 



Again the selfsame books we con, 

With lessons all too brief ; 
Again we write love-mottoes on 

The margin of some leaf. 

We wander forth on star-lit nights 

To hear the whip-poor-wills, 
And see the glow-worms' tiny lights 

Flash o'er the pensive hills. 

Oh, rosy youth ! when two hearts rhyme, 

The music of the spheres 
Sends through each soul a thrill divine, 

That charms in after-years. 

Dear girl, how lovely all things seemed ! 

Why, every month was June ! 
In those sweet times we never dreamed 

That hearts sang out of tune. 

The frost of age now crowns my head, 

My brow is furrowed o'er, 
Wild vines have wreathed thy lowly bed 

These three decades — and more. 



The Language of Flowers 2j 

Oh, loved and lost, for thee I yearn, 

While thou dost wait for me ; 
Though other eyes watch my return, 

My heart still pines for thee. 

Time doth not mar youth's first sweet 
dream 

The while life's currents flow ; 
The twilight tinge upon the stream 

Is but an after-glow. 



THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 

jT morn I give thee violets ; each 
spray 
Is gemmed with dew. 
Dost know they say to thee, " Love me all 
day, 
All day be true ? " 

When twilight falls, I give to thee a rose 

Lovely and bright, 
Which says, within its heart that crimson 
glows, 

" Love me all night ! " 





28 I wonder why ? 

I WONDER WHY? 

MYSTIC light is burning 

In thy dark eye, 
Which starts my heart to yearn- 
ing, 

I wonder why ? 

When you my shy hand captured 

In passing by, 
My soul was thrilled, — enraptured ! 

I wonder why ? 

Thy smiles to all are pleasing, — 

Could I but die 
My heart is burning, — freezing, — 

I wonder why ? 

THE SALT-CELLAR. 

[WO friends have I, who dwell in 
realms of bliss, 
One a lawyer, and one a banker's 
daughter, 
" My darling sweet ! " precedes a linger- 
ing kiss : 
Time — honeymoon's first quarter. 




Tlie Salt-Cellar 2g 

Her form is exquisite, orbs dark and 
bright, 
A winsome face where love and joy are 
blended, 
Her lips are ravishing, teeth pearly white, 
Her raven hair is splendid. 

In his blue eyes fierce burns the fire of 
youth, 
His locks are blonde, his voice is deep 
and mellow ; 
In stature manly, tall and strong, in truth 
An earthly-born Apollo. 

Words cannot paint the rapture of these 
two ; 
Their hearts are one, transfixed by love's 
firm rivet. 
By hours they tell their love, and bill and 
coo ; 
Their souls turn on one pivot. 

They from each other's eyes translate 
sweet lore, 
Their every look their fondness but con- 
fesses, 



jo The Salt-Cellar 

But vigorous youth requires something 
more 
Substantial than caresses. 

" Dinner am served ! " The butler wheels 
in haste, 
A large-sized smile distorts his visage 
sable. 
Their right hands clasped, his left arm 
round her waist, 
They saunter towards the table. 

" Will wifey try the soup ? it smells right 
nice ! " 
"Yes, love. " To squeeze her hand, he 
drops the cover ; 
Oh, woeful accident ! in half a trice 
It knocks the salt-dish over. 

" Oh, hubby dear ! look, look, you 've 
spilt the salt ! 
How could you, love ? now, we are sure 
to wrangle ! " 
" Wrangle ! well, sweet, it shall not be my 
fault ; 
Your riddle pray untangle ! " 



The Salt-Cellar 31 

" 1 Ve often heard my darling mother say- 
That he who spills the salt will rue the 
blunder, — 
Be angry with some friend ere close of 
day, — 
Can aught our fond hearts sunder ? " 

" That you could heed such trash, I never 

dreamed ! 
Your mother — lord ! she 's childish, old, 

and silly. " 
" My mother silly, sir ! " the young wife 

screamed 
In accents sharp and chilly. 

" Good heavens ! come, don't be a little 
fool ! " 
u Call me a fool ? insult a dear old lady ? 
How dare you, sir ? " "I meant no harm, 
keep cool ! 
Why, both your minds are shady ! " 

" I '11 hear no more ! " Her chair falls with 
a bang ; 
Pride, hate, and scorn within her dark 
orbs mingle ; 



$2 The Salt-Cellar 



She flounces out, the door shuts with a 
clang 
That makes the dishes jingle. 



" By Jove ! the truth is piercing my thick 
skull ! 
My wife is right, and so is her wise 
mother. 
" I '11 go to her ! how could I be so dull ? " 
Now each forgives the other. 

Kisses dissolve the clouds, Love reigns 
once more ; 
A heavenly smile illumes the drops of 
sorrow ; 
The storm is past ; their souls enraptured 
soar 
Where I forbear to follow. 



A careless word the sweetest joys will mar ; 
When friends have faith in things you 
feel like scouting, 
Think what you please, but it is better far 
To give no signs of doubting. 



Maud and Paul 33 

Dear ones, if you would shun domestic 
strife, 
And have the honeymoon of long dura- 
tion, 
This mandate heed : when home-brewed 
gales are rife, 
Slur not your mate's relation ! 

Perchance some bitter drug may fill thy 
cup; 
Dash it away ! to quaff it would be fool- 
ish j 
Each say, " Forgive me, love ! " kiss, and 
make up, 
And always blame the salt-dish. 




MAUD AND PAUL. 

HE sleepy birds within the dell 
Were whispering " Good-night," 
When on the sward a footstep 

fell, 
As soft as beam of light. 



34 Maud and Paul 

'T was Maud, a girl of seventeen, 

As graceful as the fawn, 
And lovely as the blush between 

The fickle clouds at dawn. 

Mirth-dimpling cheeks of roseate hue, 

Gray orbs with jetty fringe, 
Arch lips as fresh as early dew, 

And locks of purple tinge. 

In virgin white was she arrayed ; 

Her hair was unconfined, 
Save where the moonlight wove a braid, 

Or with the coils entwined. 

Young Paul awaits the maiden there, 

With heart on love intent ; 
Their mingled breath unto the air 

A sweeter fragrance lent. 

The youth has soul-lit eyes of blue, 

A pure and lofty mind, 
A matchless form, heart brave and true ; 

His lips the gods designed. 

Oh, joyous youth, take not thy flight, 
And love's sweet dreams erase, 



Maud and Paul 35 

Ah, grief should ne'er their fond hearts 
blight, 
Nor age their brows deface. 

Fair moon, hast found that in thy rounds 

For which the spirit yearns ? 
Tell me, bright stars, if in your bounds 

True love immortal burns ? 

Oh, Helios ! thy steeds turn back ! 

Search out some hidden clime, 
Where fadeless flowers shall drift the track, 

And stop the car of Time. 

Unversed in guile, Paul feels the joy 

Of love's first ecstasy ; 
Arch, witching, dainty, sweet, and coy, 

Maud lists his tender plea : — 

" Oh, Maud ! the skylark never sang 

So joyously before ; 
I never saw the roses hang 

So thickly round our door ; 

" A fleet of lilies guards our lake, 

Full swells each snowy sail ; 
The violets are all awake ; 

The lilacs scent the gale ; 



36 Maud and Paul 

" A garland decks the jessamine ; 

Daisies adorn the heath ; 
Dearest, be mine ! and I will twine 

For thee a bridal wreath. " 

" No chains for me ! adieu, we part. 

The eagle 's not so free ! 
The hunter's dart may find its heart, 

But none can pinion me ! " 

She gives her curls a saucy toss, 

She pouts her coral lips, 
And hardly dints the velvet moss, 

So fairy-like she trips. 

When thus the pine's coquettish tress 

Recedes in mock disdain, 
The zephyr's faintest love-caress 

Recalls the sprite again. 

But Paul, alas ! with haughty brow 
Calls not. Contempt, surprise, 

And hate succeed love's recent vow, 
Scorn flashes from his eyes. 

Oh, fickle youth ! thy pathway gleams 
O'er shoals by quicksands fluted, — 



Maud and Paul 57 

A whim dispels thy golden dreams, 
And dims the torch of Cupid. 

As lightly fades the name when traced 

Where wanton billows play, 
Or airy castles are erased, 

Fond hearts are flung away. 



Ten years have winged their noiseless 
m flight, 

Fair Maud 's a pensive maid, 
Her eyes have lost their roguish light, 

Her hair its purple shade. 



How varied o'er our spirits steals 

The tuneful village bell ! 
For Paul, it chimes sweet marriage-peals, 

For Maud, it tolls a knell. 



}8 Beware I 



BEWARE ! 



-■& 



EWARE of Love, the archer boy ; 
Let caution be thine armor ; 
Beware ! he brings not always joy, 
He 's but a fickle charmer. 



When Cupid wounds a tender heart 

His captive is delighted, 
If he lets fly a poisoned dart 

The victim's life is blighted. 

A promise is a brittle link, 

Desire, a wanton rover ; 
The falls are smoothest on the brink 

Of plunging madly over ! 

Manhood, unsullied, wooes the things 
That Virtue shuns in terror ; 

A blemish to a woman clings, — 
All magnify the error ! 

The heart that sacrifices all 
To Love's delightful pleading, 

Like withered wreaths from festive hall, 
He flings away unheeding. 



Beware ! 3g 

Though harmless seems the gleeful spray- 
That sunshine floods with glory, 

That surging spray will wear away 
The frowning promontory. 

The bee its treasure brings no more x 
To where its sweets were rifled ; 

The soul will ne'er enraptured soar 
With which deceit has trifled. 

The hare-bell torn from woodland rill 

Will perish with the florist ; 
The fettered bird will never trill 

The music of the forest. 

Though brightly gleams the stranded shell 
O'erswept by wild commotion, 

Within its cell for aye shall dwell 
The dirges of the ocean. 

1 Bumble-bees deposit their honey in rock-heaps, 
tufts of dry grass, and the like ; when robbed, they never 
return. 




40 Lament of a Runaway Dog 



LAMENT OF A RUNAWAY DOG. 

Y waving fields and limpid streams 
Was my dear home ; how oft it 
gleams 
Across my brain in fitful dreams ! 

Now starved and cold I roam, 

One foot is lame, 
Alas ! I have no home, 
No friends, no name. 

With blanket tied with ribbons gay, 
A swell town-dog once came my way ; 
Ah ! woe is me, I rue that day ; 
" I would not chase the cow, 
Nor chickens tend," 
Said this stuck-up bow-wow, 
My new-made friend. 

With foolish praise he made me proud ; 
I swallowed all the oaths he vowed, 
And sought with him the city's crowd ; 
Oh ! if I dared return 

To master now ; 
For home and friends I yearn ; 
Bow ! wow ! b-o-w — w-o-w — 




Storm-Tossed 41 

STORM-TOSSED. 

H me ! the sullen breakers' roar 
Strikes with a boding thrill, 
While fiercely from some frozen 
shore 
There comes an icy chill. 

Low down the gray horizon's rim 

A gloomy cloud appears ; 
The frowning sky is leaden-dim, 

And shedding bitter tears. 

With masts all rent, lo ! in the dark 
I drift, the whirlwind's prey ; 

My anchor 's gone ; my tossing bark 
Flies on her aimless way. 

Oh, Pilot ! you 're perverse to me ; 

Could I but take command, 
I 'd steer towards some pearly sea 

Or rosy morning land. 

How fast she skims the fickle main ! 

I near the dismal West ; 
Back ! Pilot, to the East again ! — 

He heeds not my behest ! 




42 To An American Soldier 



TO AN AMERICAN SOLDIER. 

HEN devastating clouds rolled 
black, 
Thy sword the valiant guided ; 
Aye, thine undaunted will gave back 
Our Country undivided. 

If prayers availed, or human art, 
In pain thou wouldst not languish ; 

At thy distress the Nation's heart 
Is bowed in tearful anguish. 

Relentless fate life's thread may break, 

And earthly ties dissever ; 
Time's tuneful lyre thy praise shall wake, 

The Hero lives forever. 

Thy mighty deeds, thy matchless fame, 

Gleam forth a starry cluster ; 
And ages hence, thy cherished name 

Will glow with brightest lustre. 

New York, June 25, 1885. 



% 



To John Greenleaf JVhittier 43 

TO JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. 



HY words lead our thoughts 
higher, 
|j Making humanity our constant 
guest ; 
Once gently touched, thy soulful, tender 
lyre 
Vibrates in every breast. 

When slaves were forced to clank 

Their galling chains in terror, pain, and 
woe, 

Each burning link within thy bosom sank, 
Thy heart felt every throe. 

Tears of remorse will start, 

When vengeful mem'ry draws the veil 
aside, 
Revealing to the sad, regretful heart 

Thy lay of love and pride. 

When Autumn paints the woods, 

Sears all the hills, scatters her garnered 
leaves, 
Thy fancy from Death's crumbling, russet 
goods 
A fadeless garland weaves. 



44 To John Greenleaf Whittier 

Thine Idyl born of gales — 

How many souls its holy ties have felt ! 
Though sunbeams glow till old Atlantic 
fails, 

Thy snow-wreaths ne'er will melt. 

Enchanted by thy Muse, 

Tribes yet unborn will love New Eng- 
land's strands, 
And o'er her waves see dart frail bark ca- 
noes, 
Propelled by dusky hands. 

New England's sons may roam, 

There is no clime to which they do not 
throng ; 
But more than fame or wealth they love 
the home 
Portrayed by thee in song. 

New England's granite hills 

Will echo back for aye thy plaintive 
lays ; 
New England's surge-lashed shores and 
sparkling rills 
Will ever sound thy praise. 



The Tomb of Mrs. Hemans 45 



THE TOMB OF MRS. HEMANS. 




HIS silent tomb for thee ! where 

no faint ray 
Of sunlight lingers round thy sa- 
cred clay ? 
O thou, who loved the woods, the daisied 

sod, 
The brooks, the birds, all things which 
breathed of God, 

Thy grave should be where summer breezes 

toy 
With violets ; where cowslips bloom, and 

coy 
Forget-me-nots unclose their pensive eyes, 
To catch the light of England's azure 

skies. 



46 John Howard Payne 



TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN HOWARD 
PAYNE. 

John Howard Payne, the author of " Home, Sweet 
Home," was born at East Hampton, Long Island, on 
June 9, 1792, and died at Tunis, April 9, 1852. Mr. W. 
W. Corcoran, a friend of the author since youth, had 
his remains brought to his native land ; they arrived 
on March 21, 1883, and were finally laid to rest at Oak 
Hill Cemetery, Washington, D. C, on June 9. The ser- 
vices were conducted by Bishop Pinckney. 

EST ! thou hast reached the goal • 
Kind friends strew flowers above 
thy mould'ring brow ; 
The praise that would have thrilled thy 
longing soul, 
The world accords thee now. 

Thy cup o'erflowed with woe, 
The rude winds tossed thy bark in heed- 
less play ; 
Now through all climes regretfully and low 

Echoes thy mournful lay. 

" Sweet Home ! " oh, sacred spell ! 
The prodigal hath melted at thy strain, 
And hardened wretch within his prison-cell, 
When prayers have been in vain. 




John Howard Payne 47 

Upon the couch of death, 
Where fading hope to fond remembrance 

clings, 
Thy plaintive melody, with failing breath, 

The lonely exile sings. 

When Valor might despair, 
In thrilling tones it nerves the warrior's 

breast ; 
The mother softly breathes thy soothing 
air 
To lull her babe to rest. 

Along the smiling shore, 
Through dim, lone woods, far o'er the 

rolling plain, 
In harvest field, by lowly cottage door, 

Is heard thy sweet refrain. 

O trusting heart betrayed, 
Bereft of friends, and all save taunts of 

scorn, 
" Sweet Home ! " bright angels chant ; 
Hope heaven-arrayed 
Cheers thy dark soul forlorn. 



48 John Howard Payne 

Where sounds God's holy praise, 
O'er boundless seas, through high and 

craggy fells, 
In stately halls, where regal jewels blaze, 

Thy tender anthem swells. 

Thy song will never cease, 
Thy words divine cause every heart to 

thrill ; 
While ages roll, while centuries increase, 

Thy lyre will vibrate still. 

Oh ! tardy recompense ; 
Alas ! how oft is genius linked with fate, 
And brave hearts crushed 'neath agonies 
intense, 

While homage comes too late. 

Rest ! thou hast reached the goal ; 
Kind friends strew flowers above thy 

mould'ring brow ; 
The praise that would have thrilled thy 
longing soul, 
The world accords thee now. 



The Old Man's Soliloquy 49 



THE OLD MAN'S SOLILOQUY. 



HE summer days are not so long, 

The sky is not so blue, 
The robin sings a sadder song 
Than when my life was new. 

The cataract above the mill — 

How loud it used to roar ! 
But now, it falls so soft and still 

I hardly hear it pour. 

The blast that rocked the northern pine, 
I hailed with glowing breath ; 

The breeze that sways the jessamine, 
Now feels as cold as death. 

The rainbow is no longer bright, 

The flowers no longer sweet, 
My raven locks have turned to white, 

And Time has chained my feet. 

Time, how noiseless thou dost glide ! 
And yet how swift thy stream ! 

1 drift upon the ebbing tide, 
Near where my treasures gleam. 




lyO Soliloquy of the Houseless 

SOLILOQUY OF THE HOUSELESS. 

" 'T is dark : the iced gusts rave and beat ! " — Keats. 

ARK to the revel 

Convulsing the clouds ! 
'T is the loom of the devil 
Weaving shrouds. 

How the winds wrangle 
With sign-board and tree ! 

How the storm-furies strangle, 
Torture me ! 

Dreary, dark, endless, 

These bitter nights stretch 

To a poor, old, sick, friendless, 
Houseless wretch. 

God ! I shall perish 

Out here in the snow ! 
Is there no one to cherish 

Me ? No — no — 

Little it matters 

To the proud ones near 
That I writhe in my tatters, 

Starving here. 



The Yellow Boys 



THE YELLOW BOYS. 




ITH a wrinkled face death-white, 
In a cheerless room and cold, 
A miser counts by a feeble light 
His treasures of hoarded gold ; 
And he croons as the eagles clink : 

" I stow the shiners away ! 
What others squander on food and drink 
I keep for a rainy day. 

" The people are mad or fools ! 
On the fat of the land they thrive, 
Eating and drinking the richest things, — 
Why, a crust keeps me alive ! 
Of this faded cloak so old 
I care not what they think, 

For every fold 

Is stuffed with gold, — 
Ah, how my eagles clink ! " 
And he chuckles as he sings : 

" I stow the shiners away ! 

My only joys 

Are my Yellow Boys, 
The chums with which I play. " 



52 The Yellow Boys 

His soul he pawned in a sordid mart, 
Never to be redeemed ; 
His poor wife died of a broken heart, 
While for gold he starved and schemed. 
Still he sings in devilish glee : 

" My wife is dead, 

My son has fled, 
And I am alone and free ! 

Oh, it takes much less 

To feed but one 
Than to feed a hungry wife and son, 

Ha ! ha ! it takes much less 

To feed but one 
Than it did to feed all three ! " 

One morn they found the miser dead, 
His throat was cruelly gashed ; 
A gaping wound was in his head 
Where his brains had been outdashed ; 

The Yellow Boys 

He would not lend, 
But hugged to his stingy heart 

The golden toys 

He would not spend, 
At last, they had to part. — 



The Yellow Boys 53 

In a pauper's grave his bones were cast, 

With never a prayer or knell, 

When a laugh croaked up from the depths 

so vast 
Like a fiend's from the caves of hell : 

" Ho ! I am so lean, 

So shriveled and lean, 
I will treat the poor worms to a fast ! 

Ho ! I am so lean, 

So skinny, I ween, 
I have cheated the worms at last ! " 

In a splendid street, 

Where thousands of feet 
Are rushing to and fro, 
As the tide and life of the city beat 
In an endless ebb and flow ; 
In a gorgeous, gilded hall of fate, 
Where the smiling tempter lurks in wait 

As fortunes sink and soar, 

Where many a song 

From that eager throng 
With curses and laughter blends, 
His Yellow Boys, on rouge et noir, 
Are making other friends. 



% 




54 Smiling Misery 



SMILING MISERY. 

LINES ON SEEING AN OLD BLIND BEGGAR SMILE 
IN HIS SLEEP. 

PON the sward o'er which the 
graceful willow streams, 
The old blind mendicant lies 
wrapped in happy dreams, 
While long, slanting sunbeams with golden 

lances trace 
Angelic smiles upon his pinched, time- 
wrinkled face. 

Thou smilest in thy dreams ; 

Art happy now ? 
Are youth's bright limpid streams 

Laving thy brow ? 

How strange seem the smiles round thy 
lips at play ! 

Art thou culling flowers which adorn the 
way ? 

Does the fragrant breeze waft a sweet re- 
frain, 

From the dark, green woods, of the wild 
bird's stain ? 



Smiling Misery 55 

Oh, gentle, sweet repose, 

Soft, mystic charm, 
Healer of earthly woes, 

Bless thy dear balm. 

See'st the morning sun o'er the mountains 

shine, 
And the clouds in the west at the day's 

decline ? 
Does the dash of waves, and the vintage 

song, 
In thy bright dreams waver and float 

along ? 

Perchance a mother's hand 

Is guiding thee 
To some far peaceful land 

Where all may see. 

Dost thou in thy youth roam the fields once 

more ? 
Does thy shallop bound to the dipping 

oar? 
Or do merry voices, in childish glee, 
Chase thy woes away with their revelry ? 

Does thy loved sister's song 
Fall on thine ear ? 



56 Stilling Misery 

Does an angelic throng 
To thee appear ? 



Ah ! the happy smiles are now giving 

place 
To a troubled look which o'erclouds thy 

face; 
And thy sightless orbs are tearfully raised, 
For thy waking dreams leave thy soul 

amazed. 

Ye lengthening shadows, pause ! 

Time, cease your flight ! 
Nature, revoke thy laws, 

Give blind eyes light ! 

Like the heart betrayed, like an orphaned 

child, 
Like a voyager wrecked on the ocean wild, 
Like an exile poor, in a foreign land, 
Thou grop'st in the dark with thy palsied 

hand. 

Oh, couldst thou ne'er awake 

'T were well for thee ! 
Oh, could thy dark chains break 

And set thee free ! 




Come Home* $y 

COME HOME! 

!E know not where thou art ; 
But still we look for thee if steps 
draw nigh ; 
When gentle winds the sleepy branches 
start, 
We hear thy voice in every leafs low sigh. 

Strangers come and go ; 
We heed them not, for none can fill thy 
place ; 
Dark locks have turned to white, and 
joy to woe ; 
But all in vain we yearn for thy dear face. 

We gather round the board ; 
Thy place is kept, but vacant stands thy 
chair ; 
Oh, bitter tears for thee have oft been 
poured, 
Distilled from aching hearts in mute de- 
spair. 

When waning stars grow dim, 
Throughout the day, when twilight gilds 
the sea, 



5<S Little Bundle of Rags 

When sinks the moon beneath the sky's 
low rim, 
When darkness reigns, dearest, we think 
of thee. 

We love the wayward breeze, — 
It may have kissed thy cheek, thy brow 
have fanned ; 
We love the birds that flit among the 
trees, — 
They may have flown near thee in some 
far land. 

Hast thou found brighter skies, 
And fairer scenes, beyond the dark sea's 
foam ? 
Here are true hearts, and anxious, lov- 
ing eyes 
Watching for thee ; lone wanderer, come 
home! 

LITTLE BUNDLE OF RAGS. 



LITTLE hungry mouth, 
A tiny shaking form ; 

Two little naked feet 
Out in the bitter storm ; 




Little Bundle of Rags 59 

A tattered bundle of rags and stains, 
A beggar from door to door, 

A freezing bundle of aches and pains, 
A starving child of the poor. 

Two pleading, tearful eyes 

That none will ever miss ; 
Two little sunken cheeks 
That never knew a kiss ; 
A tattered bundle of rags and stains, 

That whines for a crust to eat ; 
A freezing bundle of aches and pains, 
A homeless child of the street. 

Two tiny purple hands, 

A shock of tangled hair, 
A little weary head 

Asleep on the pavement bare ; 
A tattered bundle of rags unblest, 

Whose strife is forever o'er ; 
A wretched bundle of woes at rest, 
A frozen child of the poor. 



6o Little Sunbeam 



LITTLE SUNBEAM. 




CHILD in dainty white, 

With dimpled cheeks aglow, 
Claps hands in wild delight 
Over the whirling snow, 
A merry, dancing sunbeam, 

That flits from room to room, 
A lovely, joyous sunbeam, 

Whose smile dispels the gloom. 

Two roguish eyes of blue, 

Lips rosy, arch, and sweet, 
Soft hair of golden hue, 
Two tiny, twinkling feet ; 
A merry, dancing sunbeam, 

Enchanting little fay ; 
A lovely, joyous sunbeam, 
Who steals our hearts away. 

Two little folded hands 

Over a bosom fair ; 
A little sleepy head 

Bowed low in simple prayer ; 
A nodding little sunbeam 

Endowed with all that charms ; 
A happy little sunbeam 

Clasped tight in loving arms. 




To a Caged Lion 6r 



NEVER STRIKE A CHILD. 

H ! couldst thou but recall 
The hasty word or blow, 
When deep 'neath sable pall 



Thy little one lies low. 

Oh ! for the clinging hands, 
Repulsed in days of yore ; 

Couldst feel again those bands 
Thine eyes would not brim o'er. 

Lavish the hoard of years 

Upon that silent clay ! 
It will not quench thy tears, 

Nor drive remorse away. 



TO A CAGED LION. 




OSS thy mane, proud lion ! 
And thy strong teeth gnash ! 
Break those bars of iron 
With one bold dash 
Of thy huge paw ! 



62 To the Obelisk 

Stern thy keen eyes wander 
O'er the gaping throng; 

Fierce thy hoarse roars thunder 
Untamed along 
From thy deep maw. 

Sad thy fate to languish 
In this narrow sphere, 

Fret and chafe in anguish 
From year to year 
Till grim death fall. 



How many pine in shackles, 
With spirits all unchained ! 

Many a bosom rankles, 
By Fate restrained, — 
God pity all ! 



TO THE OBELISK. 




ONE alien from the morning 
land, why art thou here 
Beneath our cold, ungenial, 
northern sky ? 



To the Obelisk 63 

Does Egypt, then, begrudge thee space 
enough to rear 
Thy record of her grandeurs long gone 
by? 

What changes thou hast seen ! Wide 
realms dissolve like dreams, 
Old men discard the gods they praised 
in youth ; 
The pinnacle of science reached, all known 
it seems 
Except some way to dull Time's evil 
tooth. 

Mysterious sentinel, guarder of ancient 
fane, 
Thou pride of mighty kings who ruled 
the East, 
Twice twenty centuries have battered thee 
in vain, 
How many more shall that sum be in- 
creased ? 

Survivor of dethroned gods and long-lost 
rites, 
Rude chronicler of laws extinct, grim 
sage, 



64 To the Obelisk 

Defying Time himself and all his many 
blights, 
How could they banish thee in thine old 
age? 

Relic of olden times, of dynasties o'er- 
thrown, 
Of mighty cities leveled with the dust, 
Succeeding generations may have wiser 
grown, 
To thee, they were more ruthless and 
unjust. 

Antique memorial, exiled to Egypt's 
shame, 
Forlorn Struldbrug ! 1 why should we 
covet thee ? 
In veneration of thine age, and ancient 
fame, 
Thou shouldst be throned by thine own 
tideless sea. 2 



1 Forlorn Struldbrug, — an imaginary inhabitant of 
Luggnagg. See Gttlliver's Travels. 

2 Tideless sea, — the Mediterranean. 




To the Sunset Gun 65 



TO THE SUNSET GUN. 

HY doleful knell booms o'er the 
wrinkled bay 
With hollow roar ; it makes old 
Gotham quiver ; 
Far echoes leap responsive to thy sway 
Inland and up the river. 

Thou belchest forth thy deep malignant 
knell, 
Relentlessly time's epitaph inditing, 
Boding triumphantly of all things fell, 
Daily the grieved heart smiting. 

The wary gulls scud past like squally gust ; 
Lo ! startled herds break from their 
heedless keepers ; 
With thine exulting blast thou shak'st the 
dust 
Of Greenwood's dreamless sleepers. 

The loosened rock rolls down the quaking 
strand ; 
Spontaneous dread thy solemn boom 
engenders ; 



66 To the Sunset Gun 

The fortress jars, and at thy stern com- 
mand 
The bay its dead surrenders. 

Now shrinks the guilty wretch condemned 
to die ; 
What phantoms throng his brain from 
crimes committed ! 
He counts the fleeting hours with startled 
eye, 
For death, alas ! unfitted. 



The day-god leaves in*regal pomp and 
blaze ; 
Upon the sky in gorgeous hues portray- 
ing 
Pictures divine, floating in golden haze, 
Of death no hint betraying. 

Old Trinity receives the sun's last smile, 
A smile benign, leaving the sweet con- 
viction 
That he rests on that massive, lofty pile 
In kindly benediction. 



Vesper Bells 6j 

And yet, O Sunset Gun ! thy dismal thud 
Rolls anguish on the human heart o'er- 

wearied, 
Roaring in savage joy, through twilight 

scud : 
" The Day is dead, and buried." 



% 



VESPER BELLS. 

" Those evening bells ! those evening bells ! 
How many a tale their music tells ! " 

Thomas Moore. 

IHEN down the west the regal 
sun doth glide, 
And on the sky his good-night 
kiss is printing, 
We love to see it like a joyous bride 
Suffused with rosy tinting. 

E'en then, vehement Time, thy reckless 
car 

Bruiseth the fainting heart ; thou rash de- 
spoiler ! 

But chiming vesper balms erase the scar, 
And soothe the weary toiler. 




68 The Alien 

How thrills the homesick heart when ves- 
per chimes 
Flood all the soul with early recollections ! 
Transporting us afar to other climes, 
Where linger our affections. 

Oh, blessed hope, engendered by the bells ; 
Oh, blessed trust, to waiting hearts long 

slighted ; 
Oh, blessed faith, within that music 

wells : 
"Again — we '11 be united. " 

« 

THE ALIEN. 

" O'er the blue deep I fled, the chainless deep ! — 
Strange heart of man ! that even midst woe swells high." 

Mrs. Hemans. 

WAY ! away ! Sea, thou art dire ; 
Yet are thy moods engaging ; 
Oh ! could thy billows quench the 
fire 
Within my bosom raging. 

Henceforth, I tarry many leagues 
Beyond where dupes may languish, 




The Jeannette's Dead 69 

Or plotting knaves hatch vile intrigues 
To torture me with anguish. 

On ! on ! fleet bark, my pathway lies 

Beyond these billows lonely, 
On ! on ! fleet bark, till alien skies 

Shall bend forever o'er me. 



THE JEANNETTE'S DEAD. 

A party of brave men commanded by Lieutenant 
George W. De Long, U. S. N., were sent out on an Arctic 
exploration by the generous and enterprising Editor of 
the " New York Herald." De Long and many of his 
gallant comrades perished of starvation at Matveh, 
Northern Siberia. Their remains arrived in New 
York, February 14, 1884. 

i]YE, bear them o'er the main ! 
They who went forth to fall 
where duty led, 
With solemn pomp, with tears, with mar- 
tial strain, 
Return, — Columbia's dead ! 

Heroic hearts are strong, 
But they would melt, even though made of 
steel, 




yo The Jeannette's Dead 

To see the frozen hand of brave De Long 
Stretched forth in mute appeal. 

Though kindred hearts may break, 
Brave Science leads with banners all un- 
furled ; 
The searcher's dauntless soul no terrors 
shake, 
He seeks a frozen world. 

Long may that spirit live ! 
Let Enterprise still roll her mighty car, — 
Wrest from the North her crystal gem, and 
give 

Our flag the Polar Star. 

Ambition falters not ; 
Although the way be strewn with human 

bones, 
And every step with threatful dangers 
fraught, 
One purpose still it owns. 

To reach ambition's goal, 
Where clashing icebergs mock the tem- 
pest's roar, 
And boreal streamers light the icy pole, 

Their spirits still may soar. 



The Jeanne tte's Dead yi 

Yet all do not return ; 
Are their dear forms locked fast in death's 

embrace ? 
Those ice-bound, mystic depths none may 
discern, 
Our wand'rers none may trace. 

For them we hope and wait ; 
Perchance they sleep beneath eternal 

snows, 
While midnight stars watch over them ; 
their fate 
The Unknown only knows. 

Alas, vain sacrifice ! 
Where are the lost ? beneath the Arctic 

crests ? 
Do they still live ? or do huge mounts of 
ice 
Weigh down their frozen breasts ? 

Oh, blessed are they who snatch 
Their loved ones from the bleak North's 

dread immense ; 
Woe ! for the waiting hearts, no grief can 
match 
The torture of suspense. 



72 The Reservoir 

If deep 'neath restless wave, 
Their native sod, or Matveh's frigid pall, 
The same blue sky bends o'er each hero's 
grave, — 

Kind nature folds them all. 

On Lena's dismal strands, 
No, not in vain, have ceased their hopes 

and fears, 
Above their sacred dust Nations clasp 
hands, 
And mingle friendly tears. 
New York, February 8, 1884. 



¥ 



THE RESERVOIR. 
The disaster here described occurred in May, 1873. 

HREE villages nestled in lovely 

repose 
Above where the winding Con- 
necticut flows ; 
From grove, dell, and orchard reechoed 

the lay 
Of wild birds outpouring their welcome to 
day; 




The Reservoir 73 

All nature enamored of Spring's glowing 

smile 
Was teeming enraptured, unconscious of 

guile ; 
In many a light, whirling, fantastic wreath, 
Smoke - clouds from the hamlets curled 

skyward beneath ; 
And merrily flew all the wheels in the mill, 
Whirled by the reservoir perched on the 

hill. 

All were mute with astonishment, frozen 

with fear, 
As the shout of a horseman fell on the ear : 
" To the hills ! to the hills ! a deluge is 

here ! 
To the hills ! to the hills ! grim Death is 

elate 
At his harvest of all who tremble and 

wait ! " . 
His loud, frightened voice the stoutest 

heart thrills, 
As it rings out over the doomed clanging 

mills ; 
He leaves not the track, till his wild char- 
ger feels 
The black, rushing flood at his clattering 

heels, 



J4 The Reservoir 

For the water had burst the basin, and 

rolled 
Into the valley uncontrolled ! 
As quick as the shuttle can click in the 

loom, 
Lo ! village and hamlet were hurled to 

their doom, 
The mansion, that lately resounded with 

Was tossed on the waves like a discarded 

toy. 
Of the homes so happy that morning in 

May, 
No vestige was left at the close of the day ; 
And the loved ones who dwelt there, oh, 

where are they ? 
Their wild shrieks were lost in the horrible 

roar, 
As parents and children were swept from 

the shore ; 
With faces all pallid, and hair streaming 

free, 
The ruthless waves clutched them, and 

rolled to the sea. 



* 




Obscurity 75 

OBSCURITY. 

OOL fountains gush as pure and 
free 
In grots that day-beams shun, 
As they which in bright witchery 
Weave rainbows in the sun. 

Deep in the forest lone and drear, 

Where rugged nature reigns, 
Float melodies, — no human ear 

Drinks such enchanting strains. 

Ah, yet unfound there gleaming lies 

Some purer, brighter gem 
Than ever dazzled beauty's eyes, 

Or blazed in diadem. 

The nights which bend o'er Arctic seas 

Display more gorgeous dyes 
Than all the flowers that scent the breeze, 

Or birds 'neath tropic skies. 

How many times hath genius wrought 
Some lofty, heartfelt strain, — 

Bright, matchless gem of burning thought 
Which arrogance hath slain. 



y6 Our Destinies Diverge 

Oft science opes her wondrous store 

To the inventive mind ; 
For want of friends, the precious lore 

To darkness is consigned. 

Columbia reared two noble sons, 

Heroes of equal worth ; 
The world extolled those mighty ones, 

Fame challenged each at birth. 

About one's tomb the Nation keeps 
Guard o'er her cherished brave ; 

While one, alas ! forgotten sleeps 
In his neglected grave. 



•£: 



OUR DESTINIES DIVERGE. 

Minds, like mountain-rills, seek channels suited to 
their bent ; bar not their way, lest their beauty and vigor 
be lost ere they find some other course. 

loves to tread the rocking 
deck 
When Neptune, in his might, 
Hurls toppling mountains high aloft 
With ragged sides all white. 




Our Destinies Diverge yy 

When every wave leaps from a grave 

To run a phantom race, 
The heavens scowl, the mad winds howl 

And join the deathly chase. 

Aye, when the hail thumps on the planks 

Like shot beneath the sieve, 
A joy then thrills his dauntless soul 

The green hills cannot give. 

When lightnings flash, when thunders 
crash, 

And driving torrents pour, 
What scornful pity then he feels 

For dwellers on the shore. 

Another chooses solitude 

Within the far-off West ; 
The sombre shadows of the woods 

Alone can make him blest. 

He loves to feel the forest shake 

When tempests are at strife ; 
The very dangers round him thrown 

Give zest to his wild life. 

He lightly slumbers on the ground, 
Trees sing his lullaby, 



y8 Our Destinies Diverge 

His pillow is a tuft of leaves, 
His canopy the sky. 

The distant snarl of prowling wolf 

Falls harmless on his ear ; 
His music is the rifle's crack 

That ends the stag's career. 

The hot breath leaping from the throats 

Of cannons hides the sun, 
And darker looks the slimy turf 

Where crimson streamlets run. 

At morn, where smiled the level plain, 

Now little hillocks rise ; 
Behold, they writhe ! they 're steeds and 
men 

In death's last agonies. 

The ranks grow thin, yet falter not; 

On ! on ! the fort gives way ; 
Thousands are dead, and thousands more 

Are worse than lifeless clay. 

The soldier's heart with rapture thrills 

Where war-flags are unfurled, 
A foothold wrested from the foe 

To him is all the world. 



Our Destinies Diverge 79 

Was there not with the hero's dream 

Some secret whisper blent, 
To guide him o'er dark, unknown seas 

And find a continent ? 

Unheeded are the warning gales 

From Arctic regions borne, 
To stay new victims from those seas 

Where ice-locked wrecks are torn. 

That mighty River which defies 

The world its source to trace, 
Has more allurements in its rills 

Than country, kin, or race. 

The searcher thou hast baffled long, 

Thy mandate he disdains, 
Thy hidden fount shall be revealed ! 

Ambition wears no chains ! 

High o'er the earth, above the clouds, 

Behold, yon speck afar ! 
Aloft undazed the Genius soars 

In his aerial car. 

One loves to till the teeming soil ; 
One delves within the mine ; 



80 Destiny 

One quaffs from nature's bubbling fount, 
Another sparkling wine. 

Some woo the Muses, some the Fates ; 

While others play the clown ; 
Some love to dance in spangled tights ; 

Some pray in holy gown. 

And all are right, and some are true, 

A few are great and wise ; 
But glasses which bestride one's nose 

Would blind another's eyes. 



DESTINY. 

The lives of people are like streams which flow from 
snow-capped mountain peaks. 

NE is bright as the flower which 
opes for a day j 
And short-lived as the iris o'er- 
arching its spray ; 
One falls through some crevice, predes- 
tined at birth 
To creep on in darkness deep under the 
earth ; 




Destiny 81 

While a third, a born ruler, leaps forth to 

the fray 
With a sky-full of sunshine to show it the 

way; 
The fourth is all music, all dimples and 

glee, 
It sings to each bramble, each insect and 

tree ; 
The alder-bush leaning, to lave in its tide, 
Smiles at its reflection decked out like a 

bride ; 
From the elms, and the willows that wave 

o'er its breast, 
Young fledglings are swinging in soft 

downy nest ; 
Here sweet, rosy children, released from 

the school, 
Lag to wade and to paddle in eddying 

pool ; 
What splendid flotillas they launch on its 

tide! 
With joy for their cargo, and hope for their 

guide : 
Some return from that far Aidenn 

After long and weary years : 
Few with happiness are laden, 

Many more are swamped with tears. 



82 The Wheelman 



THE WHEELMAN. 



ITH merry heart away he spins, 
While sleepy stars are paling, 
Far from the city routs and dins 
The breath of morn inhaling. 

Past waving fields, by daisies starred, 

Some joyous song repeating, 
He smiles to hear the farmhouse guard 

Bow-wow a surly greeting. 

Flash on ! bright, graceful, silent steed ! 

Thou fleet, health-giving treasure ; 
May thy gay rider safely speed 

O'er many leagues of pleasure ! 

% 

THE MASQUERADE BALL. 

OME all, and join our merry train ! 
Let care give way to leisure ! 
'i To-night Prince Carnival will 
reign 
Within the halls of pleasure. 




The Masquerade Ball 83 

Come where gay banners are unfurled ! 

Let every soul be jolly ! 
For once, forsake the sordid world, 

To greet the Prince of Folly. 

The while he jests, he gayly sings 
Of hot and freezing weather ; 

He waves his wand, and lo ! he brings 
The Seasons all together. 

See Love o'er cloudy billows leap 

Where rosy morning towers ; 
He rouses Flora from her sleep, 

With all her train of flowers. 

Drink to our Prince ! bright flow the tide ! 

Fill high the foaming chalice ! 
Drink to the fairies as they glide 

Within his splendid palace ! 

Bejeweled Queens with Beggars dance, 

A Bishop leads the revel ; 
And wild with laughter past us glance 

An Angel and the Devil ! 

Let all now whirl a merry rout, 
Why stand we here reviewing ? 



84 Wine 

Come ! let us wheel old Time about ! 
Again sweet youth renewing. 

Fear not ! although your heads grow light, 

Your pockets will be lighter ; 
No matter if you do get tight, 

Your friends will all be tighter. 

Sing, dance, and laugh, be fancy-free ! 

Nor care, nor trouble borrow ; 
Forget that all your hats will be 

Too small for you to-morrow. 



WINE. 

" Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy 
stomach's sake and thine often infirmities." — i Timo- 
thy, v. 23. 

ITHIN my dainty, fragile crystal 

cup 
Thousands of tiny sparks are 
flashing up, 
Diamonds of purest light are dull and poor 
Compared with these bright gems which 
bubble o'er. 




Wine 85 

E'en lovely Cleopatra's famous pearl 
Was crude to these which in my goblet 
whirl. 

Enchanting draught! what new delights 
are mine 

As thee I sip, rose-amber nectarine ! 

The breath of flowers o'er fragrant vine- 
clad hills, 

The lark's blithe lay, the melody of rills, 

Gay children's mirth, the maiden's sunny 
smile, 

The peasant's laugh, true love untinged by 
guile, 

The vintage song, in my glad fantasy, 

Sweet, sparkling wine, are all infused in 
thee! 

Delicious wine ! it soothes the weary soul, 
Makes foes clasp hands around the foam- 
ing bowl, 
Blots out old feuds ; it elevates mankind, 
Gives us more cheer than all things else 

combined ; 
It makes the rich do good with hoarded 

pelf, 
And man to love his neighbor as himself. 




86 Champagne Song 



CHAMPAGNE SONG. 

jjE sing thy praise, sweet, foaming 
wine, 
Thou vanquisher of woe ; 
Sad hearts grow light, and dull eyes shine, 
Wherever thou dost flow. 

All hail the land where they distill 

Bright sunshine as it gleams ; 
Our spirits thrill, we sip at will 

That light in liquid beams. 

The gods in one o'erwhelming crew, — 

The whole celestial staff, — 
Would storm the world if they but knew 

What nectar mortals quaff. 

Clink ! glasses, clink ! let joy increase ; 

Let song and laughter reign ; 
For life imbibes a double lease 

In sparkling, cold Champagne. 



l 




The Drunkard 87 



THE DRUNKARD. 

WAKE at night, 
And quake with fright 
And dread ; 
Without a sound, 
Ghosts flit around 
My bed. 

There gleams the knife 
With which his life 

I took ; 
Gory streams glide 
On every side 

I look. 

Demons who grin 
At my fell sin 

Appear ; 
His dying groan, 
His orphan's moan, 

I hear. 

Ah, writhing there, 
With serpent hair, 
I see 



88 The Drunkard 

His blazing eyes 

Glare in surprise 

At me. 



He rises now, 

With clotted brow — 

Vain, vain ! 
I hear him fall ; 
I live it all 

Again. 

God ! the blood ! 
The crimson flood 

I spilt ; 
Can justice trace, 
In my scared face, 

My guilt ? 

1 '11 flee ! but where ? 
His gold, I dare 

Not touch ; 
The law will deal 
With me — I feel 

Its clutch. 

Ah ! crimson snakes 
With golden flakes 
Unwind ; 



The Brook's Melodies 89 

With coiling bands 

My arms and hands 

They bind. 

Wide yawns deep hell ; 
I hear my knell 

Toll! toll! 
They tie the noose, 
I know I '11 lose 

My soul — 



THE BROOK'S MELODIES. 

H, joyous brook ! thy varied lay 

Reveals an undertone 
That breathes of music far away, 
Where sadness is unknown. 

The carol of the free, wild bird, 
Whispers from wood and glen, 

Harmonious reeds by zephyrs stirred 
Beyond the haunts of men. 

The cricket's song from mossy thatch, 
The beetle's drowsy whirr, 




go To the Charles River 

Rustle of twigs and vines that catch 
A tap from cone or burr. 

The reckless mirth of mountain rills, 

The fall of silvery spray, 
Sweet, lulling sounds from breezy hills 

Where leafy shadows play. 

The fairies' rout from sylvan dells, 
Echoes from grots and caves, 

And tinkling chime of foxglove-bells, — 
All mingle in thy waves. 



% 



TO THE CHARLES RIVER. 

RIGHT, limpid, winding river ! 
Thou hast a plaintive tone, 
Faint as the reed's low quiver 
When summer winds have blown. 

Deep shadows on thy borders lie, 

Fair Cynthia smiles above ; 
It is an hour when widows sigh, 

And maidens dream of love. 




To the Charles River 91 

The sun has left a mellow glow 

On sky, on earth, and main ; 
The night-bird's lay floats soft and low 

From o'er the drowsy plain. 

The galaxy its pennon flings 

Across the azure dome ; 
The cloudlets look like fairy wings 

Composed from tufts of foam. 

Afar and near, the glow-worms keep 

Their vigil by thy side, 
To guard the lilies while they sleep 

Upon thy pearly tide. 

Thy loveliness no blemish mars, 
No discord wakes thy strand, 

And heaven has lent thee all its stars 
To stud thy gleaming band. 

Upon thy banks in other days, 

The beacon flaunted high ; 
The warrior knew by that red blaze 

That death was lurking nigh. 

Yes, here the freeman met the foe, 
Within this very dell ; 



g2 To the Charles River 

Where rest their bones no friend may know, 
And none their names can tell. 

Those heroes still are guarding thee, 

A bright angelic throng ; 
If I but close mine eyes, I see 

Their spirits flit along. 

These elms, which rise the clouds to meet, 

For centuries have swayed ; 
A thousand times the Indian fleet 

Hath bounded 'neath their shade. 

When autumn frowns, their kingly crowns 

They toss upon thy shore 
As softly as the light skiff bounds 

When lovers dip the oar. 

The mighty, scornful, northern blast 

May fell the lofty tree ; 
Like man, the elm shall die at last, 

But what is that to thee ? 

Let winter wail, with cheeks all pale, 

And tangled locks of snow, 
For thou wilt don thy crystal mail 

To guard thy peaceful flow. 



To the Charles River 93 

To thee, poor wearied souls have flown 
O'erwhelmed with earthly woes ; 

Thou hast thy mantle o'er them thrown, 
And soothed them in repose. 

Ah, well ! to gaze upon thy breast 

As calm as infant's sleep, 
I, too, could wish eternal rest 

"Where eyes may never weep. 

Flow on ; my soul drinks thy soft lay ; 

A sweeter song is thine 
Than gentle, whisp'ring zephyrs play 

Upon the tasseled pine. 

I love thy ev'ry trill and tone, 

O ever restless stream ! 
I love to muse by thee alone 

When others sleep and dream. 

I love thee when the dawn's first ray 

Illumes thee with its light ; 
I love thee when the god of day 

Is kissing thee good-night. 



« 



g4 Lake of the Woods 



LAKE OF THE WOODS. 



OW beautiful thou art, calm in- 
land sea ! 
For love, the west wind folds its 
wings o'er thee, 
And the new-born lilies like infants 

blest 
Are rocked to sleep on throbbing breast. 

Thou dost return the bright moon's serene 

glance 
Without a wrinkle on thy fair expanse, 
Save where the pines fling a needle 

in, 
Or darting trout show a mottled fin. 

These bordering trees tower from the sod 
Like some vast temple reared to worship 
God; 
Their vespers low, when the branches 

start, 
Diffuse no balm o'er my aching heart. 

I loved a maiden once, and thought her 
true ; 



Idyl of Lake George g$ 

Tawny her braids, her eyes the larkspur's 
hue, 
Silvery her voice, sunny her brow \ 
Lone I muse by thee, where is she now ? 




IDYL OF LAKE GEORGE. 

USH ! have a care, 
No further dare ; 
We tread enchanted ground 
Where sylvan nymphs abound 
With golden hair. 

Wild heart, be calm, 

Break not the charm, 
My soul is steeped in bliss ; 
See how the sunbeams kiss 

That perfect arm. 

Far o'er the lake 

The ripples wake, 
And low, sweet rhymes repeat, 
Plashing those dainty feet 

For love's dear sake. 



96 The Spray and Bow Rivers 

Birds on the wing, 

High circling, 
Swift in their happy flight 
Over this vision bright, 

Hover and sing. 

Let others still 
Enraptured thrill 

Before this sylvan shrine ; 

But it is wholly mine 
Ever at will. 

For on my heart, 

By Cupid's dart, 

Is stamped each lovely face, 

Each soft, exquisite grace, 

Ne'er to depart. 




THE SPRAY AND BOW RIVERS. 



FT in my waking dreams, 
I hear, or so it seems, 
An echo of the lay 
Sung by the Bow and Spray 



The Spray and Bow Rivers g? 

The Rockies crowned with snow ; 

An eagle high in air ; 
The shores with flowers aglow, 

And you were with me there. — 

We learned from Nature's page 
Lore ne'er yet gained of sage, 
Truths that we joyed to know, 
Taught by the Spray and Bow. 

We saw those rivers race, 
Beheld their glad embrace ; 
Our souls blent like those streams 
Their mingled songs in dreams. 

We viewed the steaming tide 
That stained the mountain-side, 
From caldrons miles beneath 
The vapor's curling wreath. 

Then, high above the hills, 
We caught the glance of rills, 
Where glacier-cascades flow 
To join the Spray and Bow. 

I see, or seem to see, 

Those bright streams gushing free, 



g8 The Seasons 

'Twixt green banks far away, 
As then, — oh, happy day ! 



To me, the place most sweet 
Is where those rivers meet, 
That dear, loved nook, where flow 
And wed the Spray and Bow. 



THE SEASONS. 

LOVELY maid is budding spring, 

Who sends our spirits flying 
Where mating birds love-ditties 
sing, 
And zephyrs sweet are sighing. 

Summer, the flirt ! — to her we doff 
Our wits to woo the charmer ; 

But Cupid's darts glance harmless off 
The siren's jeweled armor. 

Autumn 's a lavish dame whose vest 

In gorgeous hues is tinted, 
Yet, lovely as a mother's breast 

By baby-fingers dinted. 





June gg 

Winter revels in song and mirth 

Where hearts united mingle : 
The old, around the blazing hearth, 

The young, where sleigh-bells jingle. 



JUNE. 

HE honeysuckles toss their leaves 

Upon the fragrant air ; 
\\ The nimble spider deftly weaves 
Its gossamery snare. 

From tiny nests that sway aloft 
The sweetest warblings flow ; 

Forget-me-nots are whisp'ring soft, 
And blue-bells chiming low. 

The lily spreads her snowy sail 

Upon the dimpled lake, 
Her gondola outrides the gale 

That wrecks the graceful brake. 

Within the forest's green arcade 
Where sunbeams never glance, 

The glow-worm lights the sylvan glade 
While fairies gayly dance. 



ioo Autumn 

With columbines and buttercups 

The fields are all aglow ; 
Alighting oft, the wild bee sups 

From clover white as snow. 

The joyous birds in dell and grove 
Fling out their wildest notes ; 

The butterflies which past me rove 
Have on their brightest coats. 

The tall grass breathes a plaintive sigh 
O'er daisies list'ning mute ; 

Anon, chimes in the locust's cry, 
Or cricket's merry lute. 

Enchanting June ! with odors sweet, 
And birds that wing the air, 

What raptures new the senses greet ! 
While Love reigns everywhere ! 



AUTUMN. 

N sombre wood and pensive dale, 
The dead leaves tell a mournful 
tale 
Of summer lying cold and pale, 

While chilly winds are sighing ; 




Autumn wr 

The lofty tree has doffed its crown ; 
The river wears a sullen frown ; 
The hills are draped in robes of brown ; 
The birds are southward flying. 

Where lilies held their cups of pearl, 
There 's nothing but a shriveled burl ; 
Of vines, but one poor brittle curl 

Adorns the fretted wicker ; 
The rose-tree stands like goblin grim, 
Beating the air with naked limb ; 
The glow-worm's lamp, nor bright nor dim, 

Not one is left to flicker. 

Gray scud obscures the upper land, 
Where bright youth romped, a joyous band, 
With smiling lip and dimpled hand, 

Stained by the hill-side berry ; 
Where clangs yon gate, an idle thing, 
Our children's children used to swing ; 
God send them with the birds in spring, 

To make the old farm merry ! 



102 Storm Pictures 



STORM PICTURES. 



EHOLD! the clouds whirl past 
as if they would 
Some dread pursuer thus elude. 
But mark 
With what rapidity each thunder-bolt 
Unrolls the magic scene ! Heaven's deep 

vault 
Seems turned to one vast pandemonium ! 
Up from the dwarfed horizon flap the 
broad, 
Extended wings of an unwieldy roc, 
Within its long hooked claws it clutches 

fast 
A dragon's ponderous form. 

Right overhead, 

Gigantic Titans pile huge mountains up ; 

Then hurl them down again. Lo ! routed 
hosts, 

With tattered flags and steeds all rider- 
less, 

Rush frantically towards the sullen west. 
Dark, rocking forests spring from sunlit 
vales ; 

O'er lakes of gold enchanted cities drift ; 



Storm Pictures 103 

Temples and fanes spin giddily around ; 
Weird spectres glide o'er frowning battle- 
ments ; 
Now, all are tossed in wild confusion up 
By hands invisible ; then melt away 
Like mist-shrouds o'er the boundless gulf 
of Time. 

In bold relief a promontory now 
Rears its bald head above a raging sea ; 
On bounds a fated ship with every stitch 
Of canvas far outstretched to catch the 

gale, 
Which to destruction hurls the battered 

wreck ! 
It strikes the rock, rebounds upon the tall, 
White crest of an o'erhanging wave, where 

now 
It staggers like a wounded mastodon ! 
The straining lurid sails are chased with 

shafts 
Of fire, but her vast hull is blacker than 
The cinders of deep hell. 

Down thumps the rain, 
As if the furious gods were beating now 
The long-roll for lost souls ; while mighty 
Jove's 




104 Visions of the Woods 

Artillery all belches forth at once ! 

The hills resound ! the earth trembles 

amain ! 
While lofty trees waver like wanton reeds. 



VISIONS OF THE WOODS. 

AY-dreams I weave, of which the 
warp and woof, 
In rainbow-tinted hues, disclose 
to my 
Enraptured gaze the spicy laden woods, 
Beneath whose arching boughs my child- 
hood's years 
Flashed like a wayward brook. 

Dear, grand, old friendly woods ! how 

many times 
Your emerald mantle has turned red and 

gold, 
Since last in quick response you echoed 

back 
My song ! The seasons in their hurried 

rounds 
Have all encircled you with loving arms ; 



Visions of the Woods 105 

You are unchanged, save where some sen- 
tinel, 

Who, from his dizzy outlook, has with- 
stood 

The brunts and buffets of untold decades, 

At last lies prone 'neath mossy coverlet. 

Once more I thread your mazy, tangled 

paths ! 
Again I climb some lofty, graceful shaft 
To watch, through golden gates of heaven, 

the sun's 
Departing radiance, that softly rests 
In benediction on your verdant crowns. 

A pensive sigh sweeps through the pine's 

long fringe ; 
It is the pliant wind, beneath whose sway 
The leaves all thrill with low, sweet melody, 
Awak'ning memories more tender than 
A youthful mother's timid lullaby. 
Anon, the sturdy boughs and pendant 

vines 
Catch up the surging strain, till far and 

near, 
Through aisle and nave, a mighty chorus 

swells 



106 A Song to California 

In one triumphant chord ! then dies away 
Like holy vespers o'er a tranquil sea ; 
And all is hushed, save that from far-off 

dells, 
Come dreamy murmurs from the woodland 

rill, 
Or plaintive notes of some lone whippoor- 

will, 
Who calls in pleading tones its tardy mate. 



A SONG TO CALIFORNIA. 



HERE the blue Pacific Ocean 
Beats thy mighty, rock-ribbed 
strands, 

Where it with caressing motion 
Throbs upon thy golden sands, 

Where " Old Baldy " sends his fountains 
Dancing down in limpid mirth, 

Framed and fringed by countless moun- 
tains, 
Smiles the paradise of earth ! 

Lo ! unnumbered herds are grazing 
Over teeming slope and plain ; 



A Song to California ioj 

How one thrills with rapture, gazing 
O'er thy boundless fields of grain ! 

Palms and rose-trees in confusion 
Sway their banners in thy breeze ; 

Rip'ning fruits in rich profusion 
Like big jewels load thy trees. 

Clustered vines in beauty trailing 
Wreathe and festoon hill and glade ; 

Birds and bees are ever sailing 
Where thy blossoms never fade. 

Oh ! to revel in bright day-dreams 
Where thy honeysuckles twine ; 

Oh ! to sip imprisoned sunbeams 
In the nectar of thy vine. 

Where " Old Baldy " sends his fountains 
Dancing down in limpid mirth, 

Framed and fringed by countless moun- 
tains, 
Smiles the paradise of earth ! 




io8 Alaska 



ALASKA. 

OME of mighty frozen rivers, 
Land where midnight sunshine 
quivers 
O'er thine icy shrouds ; 
Mountains grasping leagues of glaciers, 
Glaciers clasping mounts of treasures, 
High above the clouds. 

Water smooth as polished brass, 
Blue as midnight, clear as glass, 

Silent, without motion ; 
Bays by rushing rivers dyed, 
Channels racing with the tide, 

Wild as storm-tossed ocean. 

Saint Elias, lofty, grand, 
Monarch of this wonderland, 
Thy white mantle blown to shreds, 
Streams aloft like raveled threads, 

Miles on miles abounding ; 
In the avalanche's wrath, 
In the landslide's awful swath, 
Miles of snow-slips cleave the air, 
Sweeping mountains smooth and bare, 



Alaska log 

Miles of forests heave and shake, 
Down they thunder, roar and quake 
Far and wide resounding. 

World of islands, game and flowers ; 

Land where luscious strawberries grow ; 
Home of lovely, rosy bowers ; 
Hills where salmon berries glow ; 

Book of uncut pages ! 
Gleaming, curving, serpentine, 
Where a million rills combine : — 

How the Yukon rages ! 
Ice ten thousand centuries old, 
Guarding tons of virgin gold, 

Waiting future ages. 

Echoes hurling back the thunder 
Of ice-mountains rent asunder, — 
Of ice-giants plunging under 

In triumphant mirth ! 
Echoes mock the roaring, groaning 
Of ice-titans wailing, moaning 

In the throes of birth : — 
High the surges upward leap, 
Far the billows shoreward sweep, 
Hear the canyons deeply voicing 
All the ocean's wild rejoicing 



no Morning in the Country 

O'er each iceberg downward hurled, 
Huge constructers of the world : 
On their gleaming, frozen shoulders 
Bearing gravel, sand and boulders, 
Building up the earth. 



t 



MORNING IN THE COUNTRY. 

RISE! come forth! Aurora's 

blush 
Tints all the world a rosy flush ; 
Unclasp dear arms that would detain 
The clinging form in love's domain ; 
Rise from the couch of wedded joy, 
Let not excessive pleasures cloy ! 
Gaze on the world where beauty thrills 
With every pulse as Nature wills. 

Between the elms, in sweet repose, 
The weather-beaten farm-house glows ; 
The ponderous chimney's sooty throat 
Sends azure wreaths of smoke afloat, 
Which rest upon the humid air, 
Like guarding angels floating there ; 
The ancient roof, well thatched with moss, 




Morning in the Country m 

Lights up like starry tufts of floss \ 
The tiny window-panes shine out 
Through blooming creepers twined about ; 
The well-curb flashes back each ray, 
White, orange, crimson, silver-gray ; 
The bucket glows with gems as bright 
As those which dazed Margaret's 1 sight ; 
Poised on its crutch, the creaky sweep, 
Like burnished gold, swings o'er its keep, 
And ever points invitingly 
Where nectar bubbles pure and free. 

From noisy barn, upon the ear 
Resounds the call of Chanticleer ; 
Along the lane, towards the lea, 
The glossy herd winds leisurely, 
Or turns aside with frequent stop, 
The tender wayside grass to crop ; 
W 7 ith tossing manes and flying heels, 
The rakish colts spin round the fields ; 
A flock of ravens undismayed 
Light in the scarecrow's grotesque shade. 

These acres bring their owner wealth, 
His brawny arm bespeaks his health ; 

l " Margaret," the heroine in the drama of Faust, by 
Goethe. 



H2 Morning in the Country 

There 's grandeur in his manly stride, 
His genial smile no tan can hide ; 
Content is she who wears his name, 
She does not wish a prouder fame. 

Love is abroad with flying darts, 
Joy reigns supreme in youthful hearts ; 
The old again sweet youth renew, 
In buoyant step and strong sinew ; 
Dim eyes again flash youthful fire, 
The old again feel youth's desire ; 
Ah, what care they how years increase, 
Since balmy air gives life new lease ? 
The ill, new hopes in life confess, 
And children brim with happiness ! 

Fitful as melody in dreams, 

Gush tender chords from wayward streams ; 

Blue as ribbon from the skies, 

Bright as midnight's starry band, 
Blithe as beamy, laughing eyes, 

Dimpled as an infant's hand, 
The winding brook murmurs along, 
As softly as a cradle-song ; 
It flashes out among the reeds, 
Under the rustic bridge it speeds, 



Morning in the Country 113 

Across the field, adown the steep 
With joyous shout it plunges ; 

From crag to crag with reckless leap 
Through cleft and grot it lunges. 

Now o'er the rocks in foam it curls, 
Aloft bright rainbows flinging, 

Then dashing on in giddy whirls 
Its mirth the echoes ringing. 

Down twilight glens, where pale bluebells 

A fairy measure tinkle, 
And fire-flies throughout the dells 

Their tiny lanterns twinkle, 

Through dreamy woods it glides so calm 

Its mirror is unbroken, 
Save where the maples mar the charm 

By tossing it some token. 

In every curve and mimic bay 

Are fleets at anchor riding, 
Where lucky-bugs are wild at play, 

Between the shallops hiding. 

One tiny bark obeys its helm 
And darts away elated, 



ii4 Morning in the Country 

To seek some undiscovered realm 
With dancing sunbeams freighted. 

With nodding flowers its banks are dressed, 

Their beauty it confesses, 
They lean upon its throbbing breast 

And thrill in its caresses. 

O dazzling sight ! big drops of dew 
Reflect the sky's resplendent hue, 
Each tree upholds a crystal mass, 
They tremble on each blade of grass, 
On rails where worms have tunnels bored, 
They roll a realm's imperial hoard ; 
They flash from rock, stump, twig, and 

brush, 
They gem the mullein's Quaker plush ; 
The spider's slight cable is hung 
With dainty globules deftly strung ; 
From post to post, held by a thread, 
Their beaded hammocks sway o'erhead ; 
Traced o'er with pearls, in easy reach, 
Their gossamer is spread to bleach ; 
The pansies sleep 'neath broidered quilt, 
The iris boasts a jeweled hilt, 
Quaint caterpillars fold on fold 
Impel their armor o'er the mould ; 



Morning in the Country 115 

Their bristling zones of vivid rust 
Gleam as though tipped with diamond 
dust. 

There 's vigor in the spicy gale, 
There 's beauty in the pensive dale ; 
Like flecks of rainbow on the air 
The butterfly sports here and there ; 
The colors on its wings eclipse 
The brightest cup from which it sips ; 

A world of flowers, like winsome sprites, 
Allure us on to new delights ; 
Unfolding buds adorn the trees, 
Sweet odors load the wand'ring breeze ; 
From every apple-tree's pink crown 
A cloud of flakes is sifting down ; 
The ground is white, and canopied 
Fit for an houri's bridal-bed. 

A carnival of revelry 

Proclaims the wildbird's ecstasy ; 

The lark, the thrush, from tuneful throats 

Pour forth their tender, pleading notes ; 

Housed in the tangled wayside hedge, 

The catbird feeds its tiny pledge ; 



ji6 Morning in the Country 

A robin from an alder spray- 
Now pipes his morning roundelay ; 
The bobolinks for roods around 
Make all the woods and hills resound ; 
Up mounts the redstart high and higher, 
Cleaving the sky, with wings of fire ; 
Enchanting Morn ! the welkin rings 
With melody that Nature sings ! 



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